“Who am I?” replied the stranger, assuming an air of incredible dignity.  “Sir, my name is VALENTINE GREATRAKES, a person on whom God has bestowed powers which, apart from inspiration, have seldom for centuries ever been vouchsafed to man.”

Woodward got pale again.  He had heard of his extraordinary powers of curing almost every description of malady peculiar to the human frame, and without another word slunk out of the room.  On hearing his name Mr. and Mrs. Goodwin rushed to him, seized his hands, and with the enthusiasm of grateful hearts each absolutely wept upon his broad and ample bosom.  He was at this period about forty-six; but seeing Alice’s face lit up with joy and delight, he stooped down and kissed her as a father would a daughter who had recovered from the death struggle.  “My dear child,” he said, “you are now saved; but you must remain here for some time longer, because I do not wish to part with you until I shall have completely confirmed the sanative influence with which God has enabled me to reinvigorate you and others.  As for your selfish persecutor, he will trouble you no more.  He knows now what the consequences would be if he attempt it.”

CHAPTER XXII.

History of the Black Spectre.

Woodward returned to the public room, where he was soon followed by Father Mulrenin and Greatrakes, who were shortly joined by Mr. Goodwin; Mrs. Goodwin having remained at home with Alice.  The dancing went on with great animation, and when the hour of supper arrived there was a full and merry table.  The friar was in great glee, but from time to time kept his eye closely fixed upon Woodward, whose countenance and conduct he watched closely; It might have been about the hour of midnight, if not later, when, after a short lull in the conversation, Father Mulrenin addressed Mr. Goodwin as follows:—­

“Mr. Goodwin, is there not a family in your neighborhood named Lindsay?”

“There is,” replied Goodwin; “and a very respectable family, too.”

“By the way, there is a very curious tradition, or legend, connected with the family of Mr. Lindsay’s wife:  have you ever heard of it?”

“That such a tradition, or legend, exists, I believe,” he replied, “but there are many versions of it—­although I have never heard any of them distinctly; something I did hear about what is termed the Shan-dhinne-dhuv, or the Black Spectre.”

“Well, then,” proceeded the friar, “if the company has no objection to hear an authentic account of this fearful apparition, I will indulge them with a slight sketch of the narrative: